


Unexpected

by mistleto3



Series: Sarufem!mi [12]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Childbirth, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, Rule 63, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 15:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10441449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: Misaki and Saruhiko are unexpectedly confronted with the prospect of becoming parents.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A VERY BELATED I’M SO SORRY birthday present for my top bro theotakufairy happy birthday my guy hope you had a good one!!
> 
> This fic can also be found on [Tumblr.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/158826276194/bad-sushi)

Bad sushi.

That was what had started all this- an upset stomach, and the smallest oversight.

Misaki wasn’t the type of person who read instruction pamphlets with any sort of close attention- that included everything from the manual that came with their new microwave to the folded instructions tucked inside of boxes of prescription medicine. “Take one at the same time every day, leave seven days before beginning the next pack;” that was as far as she got through the reams of tiny print on the pamphlet that came with her birth control pills before she tossed the piece of paper to the back of the medicine cabinet and forgot all about it. One every day at the same time- easy enough.

What she didn’t read was the part that said if you threw up within three hours after taking said pill, it could alter its effectiveness. Misaki didn’t figure that out until a few weeks after the bad sushi incident, after her period was two days late, and she had begun to panic. Quietly, of course- she didn’t want to frighten Saruhiko unnecessarily. That and, despite having been dating him for the best part of a decade and having been his _wife_ for the best part of the past two years, she still wasn’t a fan of talking about periods with him.

Not that he didn’t know her well enough to be able to tell with great accuracy when the communists had invaded the funhouse anyway- as much as she habitually disguised her pain, Saruhiko was an observant person, and he always picked up on her sluggishness and irritability and the way she would wince and rub her back as the cramps flared up. But of course, she would never dare complain or ask for anything, so he took looking after her into his own hands and had been dutifully bringing her heating pads and chocolate without her having to ask for nearly eight years now.

So even with Misaki’s attempts to hide her worry, it didn’t take Saruhiko long to pick up on the fact the box of ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet remained conspicuously untouched, and her usual menstrual grouchiness hadn’t yet manifested itself three days after it was usually due. It didn’t take him long to resolve to confront her about it- she was an easy person to read, and _worry_ was written across every feature of her body language. Her constant pacing was making him tense.

At the end of the fourth day, Misaki had just gotten into bed beside him, and her tossing and turning finally tipped him over the edge.

“Is something up?” he asked, rolling onto his side to face her.

“H-huh? Like what?” Misaki had a look on her face like a startled deer as she scrambled for some excuse.

“You’re jumpy.” His tone left her no room to dismiss his observation.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just…”

Before she could come up with some crap to explain it away, Saruhiko cut in. “You’re late, aren’t you?”

Misaki sighed, chewing her lip, and nodded.

“And you’re worried about it?”

She nodded once more, internally kicking herself- she’d wanted to be the one looking after _him_ , and yet here she was, listening to him talk softly to her, letting him snake his arm around her shoulder reassuringly. While they’d never talked explicitly about it, Misaki knew Saruhiko wasn’t a fan of the idea of parenthood, and while his mental health had steadily improved since their teenage years, his issues about turning out like his father still lingered. What better way to bring those fears rushing back to the surface than by confronting him with the possibility of having a child? Needless to say, this was not how she planned breach the subject of possibly maybe potentially being…

Misaki couldn’t even stomach thinking the word “pregnant”. Even after all the time they’d been together, they’d never once discussed parenthood. It hadn’t even crossed Misaki’s mind, to be perfectly honest- motherhood seemed like something other women did, women like Seri, who were far more maternal and far more… _womanly_ in general than she was. Misaki couldn’t even picture herself _holding_ a baby, let alone raising one.

“It’s probably nothing. Can’t they be irregular sometimes?” Saruhiko said, though Misaki wasn’t sure if he even believed his attempt to comfort her.

“Not mine…” she mumbled. “Ever since I went on the pill it was like clockwork.”

“It’s only a couple days, no need to worry. Maybe you should take a test though, might ease your mind.”

“I couldn’t be…” The unspoken word hung uncomfortably in the air. “Right? I never miss a pill, not even by five minutes.” As much as Misaki was usually not the most organised of people, one thing she was very good at was taking her pill on time. The alternative wasn’t worth thinking about.

Saruhiko nodded in agreement. “You’re right. The only reason those things fail is user error. It’ll be fine.”

Misaki sighed, nodding once more, then rolled onto her side and buried her face in her partner’s chest, but Saruhiko’s words didn’t quite calm the disquiet in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

 

Misaki kept her hood up as she walked through the supermarket, trying her best to act casual as she snatched a pack of home pregnancy tests from the shelf, then hurried to the self-checkout counter, hiding the box between her arm and her body in the hope that nobody would see it. As soon as she’d paid, she shoved the box as far down in her backpack as she could get it, and then hurried out of the shop, chugging a milkshake as she went.

When she got home, Saruhiko was sitting on their couch with his laptop on his knee- he’d insisted on staying and working from home until Misaki got the results. His presence made her antsy though- the subtext was difficult to deny: he wanted to be home in case the worst happened, so she didn’t have to tell him over the phone. As Misaki walked past him towards the bathroom, Saruhiko caught her hand to stop her in her tracks, pulling her down to give her a brief kiss. She replied with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes, then headed into the bathroom, her heart racing like it used to when she was heading into battle with Homra. It was disconcerting for her to know she couldn’t punch her way out of this one.

Saruhiko sat up straight as he heard the door open as Misaki emerged from the bathroom, giving her an expectant look.

“It takes a minute,” she said quietly, slipping the plastic cap over the end of the test and sitting down beside her husband. The subtle aura of anxiety that he gave off was making her nauseous, and it only made her more uneasy when Saruhiko wound his arm around her shoulder to rub the top of her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“I should be the one taking care of you…” she mumbled drumming on the test stick with her fingers as she waited for the strip to change colours.

“It’s your body.”

“I’m not the one with daddy issues,” she replied, but the joke was weak, and she sighed, finally forced to address the elephant in the room. “…What do we do if it’s…”

“Positive?”

“Mm.”

“Depends. Like I said, it’s your body; I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. From what I’ve heard pregnancy is quite an ordeal.”

It was the first time either of them had said the word “pregnant” out loud, and Misaki felt herself going pale.

“It’s not the being… pregnant that’s the issue, it’s what happens at the end. I don’t wanna bring a kid into the world if it isn’t wanted.” She had to avoid giving Saruhiko a loaded look- he knew all too well what it felt like to be an unwanted child.

“Do you want it?” Saruhiko asked quietly.

“I’d never thought about it before… I was never dying to be a mum I guess; I’d be fine going my whole life without having kids. But it’s not like I _hate_ them, or the idea of having them. I dunno, it was more whether you wanted a kid that I was worried about.”

Saruhiko was quiet for a moment, so Misaki continued:

“I guess… I don’t really like the idea of, you know, terminating. It’d be _ours_ , you know? I don’t want to get rid of something we made together, even if it’d just be a ball of cells. I guess if you didn’t want it we could give it up for adopt-…”

“No.” Saruhiko cut her off.

Misaki was taken aback by his abruptness.

“…I couldn’t abandon it, leave it as someone else’s problem,” he explained softly, but the tension in his neck betrayed how hard he’d have to force those words out.

“Then… do you want to keep it?”

“We don’t even know if there’s an it to keep yet,” he said evasively, his gaze dropping to the plastic test stick in Misaki’s hands, and she flipped it over to display the results panel.

“It looks like it’s worked…” She reached into her pocket to pull out the instruction leaflet she’d stuffed into it and unfolded the crumpled paper, her hands shaking. She felt dizzy, and it took her a moment to focus her eyes on the small print. “The line on the left means the test worked, and the line on the right means…” The colour drained from Misaki’s face. “Pregnant.”

There was a moment of quiet, before Misaki spoke again, suddenly furious at nothing in particular, at the universe in general for putting them in that position. “But how? I was always _so_ careful; it’s gotta be impossible! I’ve never missed a pill in all the years…” Her rage evaporated in an instant as the realisation dawned on her. “Shit... There was that time I got food poisoning a few weeks ago; I must have thrown up the pill before it had a chance to work. I had no idea…”

Saruhiko swallowed, and was silent for an uncomfortably long moment, staring at the slim pink lines on the test with a numb look on his face.

When he didn’t reply, Misaki asked tentatively: “Saruhiko…?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can do this…” his voice was strained, barely above a whisper. Misaki hadn’t seen him like this in years.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to keep the baby if you don’t want it…”

He shook his head. “I’m not going to make you have an abortion.”

“You aren’t making me do anyth-…”

“It’s not that I don’t want it… It’s our _baby_ I couldn’t not love it I just…” His words spilled out hurriedly, punctuated by long pauses as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know how… What if I’m like _that guy_ -…”

Misaki cut in. “You’re not going to turn out like him. How much you hate the idea of turning out like him proves you won’t.” The conviction in her voice seemed to surprise Saruhiko, and he looked down at his knees. “You want better for the baby than you had for yourself; you’re already starting better than he did.”

“I don’t know the first thing about raising a kid.”

“Well, I have two little siblings so I picked some things up watching them grow up, and we’ve got the best part of a year to learn.”

Saruhiko was quiet again for a moment, his eyes fixed on the carpet, and Misaki leaned down to try and catch his gaze.

“If you don’t want this, it’s okay.”

“You just said you didn’t like the idea of having an abortion.”

“It’s better than the other option. I don’t wanna bring a baby into the world if it’s not wanted- it’s not good for the baby or for us. If you’re only saying to keep it because you don’t want to make me do something I don’t wanna do, don’t. I’m not gonna have a baby you don’t want.” The subtext was clear- Saruhiko was mistreated because he wasn’t wanted, wasn’t cared about, and Misaki didn’t want the same for their child.

Saruhiko nodded slowly, but there was a sort of defeat in the movement.

“Besides, having a kid one of us didn’t want would probably ruin our marriage, and I don’t wanna lose you over this.”

“…I don’t have to decide right away. There’s still plenty of time for us to decide if we want to terminate.”

Misaki nodded. “Right.”

* * *

 

The next few weeks were… agonising. Saruhiko’s behaviour almost reminded Misaki of how he was during the last month or so before he left Homra. He was quiet, subdued, distracted, and he seemed to have withdrawn into himself- he spent a lot of time at work, and while he was home he might as well have been hundreds of miles away- he barely spoke, and showed no affection towards his wife in the slightest. Not that he’d ever been a hugely cuddly person, but they’d always shown their love in subtle ways- he’d loosely tangle his fingers with hers as they sat beside each other on the sofa, and he played with her hair as she slept and lay a hand on her shoulder absentmindedly whenever he walked past her, always kiss her goodbye before he left for work in the morning. All of that had stopped, and it was killing Misaki to watch him so at war with himself, to feel so alone when she was trying to pretend she wasn’t floundering just as hard as he was.

She wasn’t the only person to notice Saruhiko’s behaviour either- within a week, Seri was knocking on Misaki’s door during her lunch break with a sombre look on her face.

“Awashima-san… is everything okay?”

“I was about to ask you the same question; can I come in?”

Misaki invited her in and made them both a cup of coffee, then the pair took a seat together on the sofa. The visit was unexpected- she and Seri had never exactly been close friends. If anything, their relationship was more that of distant female relatives, cousins or sisters-in-law, only seen at family gatherings. Most of their acquaintance was as the wives of one another’s co-workers, and they’d almost never met for any reason other than obligation.

“Is something wrong with Fushimi-kun?” Seri asked as they sat down, a crease of concern forming between her eyebrows as she cut to the chase.

Misaki bit her lip. “I’m not sure he wants anything to get spread around just yet.”

“I understand. I’m just worried about him; I haven’t seen him like this since… well, since before you two made friends again. Is everything okay with you two?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothin’ like that, we aren’t splitting up or anything.”

“That’s a relief…”

Misaki sighed deeply, staring at the ring of coffee left behind on the coaster by her mug as she thought for a moment. Seri and Izumo had a child a few years ago, a daughter, and Misaki thought perhaps it would be a good idea after all to speak to someone who had already gone through this. The support of another woman at a time like this might come in useful, especially when Saruhiko had withdrawn into himself like this. It was getting harder by the day to pretend she wasn’t reeling from the revelation, but what could she do? It’s not like she could talk to Saruhiko about it; he had his own fish to fry.

After a long pause, Misaki finally spoke, not looking Seri in the eye as she did so. “…Can I tell ya something? In confidence, not even Kusanagi can know.”

“Of course.”

“The… um… the reason Saruhiko is so… is ‘cause… shit… uh… I’m p-pregnant.”

To Misaki’s surprise, Seri lay her hand on her shoulder supportively. “How far along?”

“Less than two months, probably.”

“And I take it congratulations aren’t in order?”

“I dunno yet. Saruhiko hasn’t decided if he wants to go ahead with it yet. It ain’t exactly a secret he didn’t have the best relationship with his dad; he’s scared.”

Seri nodded slowly. “What about you, do you want to keep it?”

Misaki chewed her lip, and inclined her head. “Not that I ain’t just as scared as he is, I’m not exactly motherly like you are, but it’s my _baby,_ ya know? And it’s Saruhiko’s baby, an’ I can’t help but…”

“Be completely and utterly in love with it?” Seri finished the sentence with a knowing smile. “I was the same. Ours wasn’t planned, but the minute I found out I was having a baby, I was more in love than I’d ever been, just like that. It’s a weird feeling to get used to.”

“I just… I dunno what I’d do if Saruhiko never feels the same. I couldn’t make him be a dad, not if he didn’t want the kid, I’d be making him into his _own_ dad….” The sentence periodically stuck in Misaki’s throat; opening up to Seri was difficult, but putting her thoughts into words helped her work her way through the conflict in her head without having to worry about how it would affect her husband.

“But you don’t want to get rid of it either?” Seri asked.

“I’d rather have no kid and him be happy than have a kid and lose him.”

“I don’t think you will.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t think you’ll lose him. He won’t have the love at first sight moment like we did, especially not after a childhood like his, but it’ll grow on him. He’s actually pretty good with kids from my experience, even if he’s not the biggest fan of them, but it’s different when it’s your own child. The first ultrasound, that’ll be when he gets his cupid’s arrow moment.”

“But what if he doesn’t? And then it’s too late and I can’t terminate?”

“Trust me, he will. Now I know what it is that’s bothering him, it all makes sense. _Every_ parent is terrified before their first kid is born, but the fear in Fushimi right now is not the fear of a man who doesn’t want a child; it’s the fear of a man who already loves that child, but he’s scared he’s going to mess it up. He loves you, and he’ll love the baby, and eventually you get used to the constant terror of parenthood.”

Misaki sighed. “You sound so sure.”

“Izumo was the exact same way. He was _petrified_ when I first told him, even though we’d always wanted a big family.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“…That makes me feel better.”

Seri squeezed her shoulder gently. “If you need anything, call me, okay? If you have any questions or anything, or if you just want someone to talk to. I’ve been through the loop.” She set her empty coffee cup on the coffee table, and offered Misaki a comforting smile. “Thanks for the coffee, I should get back to work before my lunch break finishes.”

“Thanks…”

“You’ll be alright,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “You guys always get through the other side okay, even if it takes a while.”

* * *

 

It was a few days later that the storm clouds around Saruhiko finally broke, and Misaki woke in the middle of the night to mattress shifting as he climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, standing with the door open as he splashed his face with water. Misaki got to her feet and followed him quietly, poking her head around the door to see if he was okay, and she was struck by the redness around his eyes- she hadn’t seen him cry in years.

“Saruhiko…?”

He stayed where he was for a minute, his hands braced on the edge of the sink. His shoulders were shaking, and his skin was pale, the droplets of water clinging to it glittering in the fluorescent light.

“What’s wrong…?”

“Nightmare,” he replied, his voice quiet and hoarse.

Misaki sighed empathetically, padding over to him to stand behind him and wind her arms around his waist. “What about?”

Saruhiko was silent for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before he finally responded, barely above a whisper: “…You had a miscarriage.” Then, slowly, he turned around in her arms to pull her small frame tightly against himself, and he stood like that for a long moment, allowing the warmth of her body to steady the shaking that wracked his body. Slowly, he began to relax, his breathing evening out, and he leaned down to press his forehead against hers. Meanwhile, Misaki was doing her best to pretend she wasn’t reeling from what he’d said- why would he be scared of losing the baby if he didn’t want to be a dad?

“You okay?” she asked tentatively. 

Saruhiko was quiet for a moment, before he finally whispered: “Please don’t get an abortion.”

Misaki felt her heartbeat stutter in her chest in surprise. “…You want to keep the baby?” she asked, not quite daring to believe it.

Ever so slightly, he nodded.

* * *

 

Misaki was awoken the next morning by Saruhiko gasping for breath, his eyes wide as he hyperventilated, clearly in the midst of a panic attack.

“Saruhiko?!” she sat bolt upright, offering her hand out to him. It had been years since he’d had one of these, but her instinct kicked in- wait for him to reach out. If he takes your hand, he wants the close contact. Almost immediately, he snatched for her palm, and Misaki threw her arms around him, rubbing his back in circles and taking deep, slow breaths in his ear. Eventually, he managed to slow his own jagged breathing to match the rhythm of hers, and his tremors slowly began to subside.

After a moment, he managed to whisper: “Sorry…”

“Idiot, don’t be sorry. What’s the matter?”

“Just… don’t wanna turn out like that guy…” he confessed, almost as though he was embarrassed that it was still bothering him.

Misaki kissed his forehead. “I’d be more worried if you weren’t worried. You’re scared because you care, right? So of course you won’t be like him.”

Saruhiko didn’t respond for a moment, his gaze straying to settle on the straight pink scar on Misaki’s bicep, where he’d thrown a knife at her all those years ago.

“You aren’t gonna hurt the baby. We were enemies when we fought, and now I’m your wife, and this is our kid,” she said, guiding his hand to press it to her abdomen. “It’s good you’re scared. Awashima said all new parents are scared.”

“Awashima?”

“I sort of… told her. She came by asking if you were alright, and I needed to talk to someone about it but you were freaking out so I couldn’t talk to you, and I figured she’s already had a kid so she’d know about this stuff… sorry for not asking. I asked her not to tell anyone.”

“’S fine. Probably a good thing to have another girl to talk to about that stuff.”

“Right,” Misaki said, then sighed, ducking down to catch Saruhiko’s gaze after he’d been avoiding her eye. “You’re gonna be a good dad, okay? I’m sure of it. Like I said, you’re scared cause you don’t want things to go wrong. That guy didn’t give a shit how you felt, but you want the kid to be safe and happy and healthy. That’s where you’re different, right?”

 _One hundred point answer._  

* * *

 

The next few months were a blur- the symptoms of pregnancy began to rear their heads with gusto, and soon Misaki was doing her best to annoy her partner with her grievances about being bloated and needing to pee all the time. Saruhiko replied with plenty of snark as expected, but he still held her hair back without complaint in the mornings as her stomach turned.

The news of the oncoming arrival spread quickly- the first people Misaki told were Izumo, Rikio, and Anna, and Saruhiko had reluctantly informed his boss (who set about trying to arrange a baby shower, and even knitted several new-born-sized items of clothing, much to Saruhiko’s disgruntlement. Where Reisi found the time to knit, Saruhiko had no idea.) Seri acted the part of surprise very convincingly, and Misaki’s mother cried when her daughter and son-in-law came by for dinner and dropped the news.

As the date of the first ultrasound drew nearer, Misaki noticed Saruhiko growing ever more jittery- he hid it well, but she was well enough attuned to his body language that she could see the tension in his hands. She noticed the way he switched tabs whenever she walked behind him and caught glimpses of websites for expectant parents, and she was awoken in the night more than once by the way he tossed and turned. But he seemed different to how he was before- this wasn’t the sheer cold terror it used to be; it was more like anxious excitement. Admittedly, he was significantly more anxious than excited, but Misaki could tell he was secretly looking forward to catching the first glimpse of their baby, even if he never said it in so many words.

When the date came around, Saruhiko’s nerves had come to a head, and he was clutching Misaki’s hand tighter than usual as they walked into the waiting room for the doctor’s surgery. As they sat, his foot tapped against the linoleum in a constant rhythm, and his gaze was shifting restlessly around the room. She tried her best to distract him, complaining about needing to pee, and wondering aloud if they really _needed_ her to have a full bladder for this dumb scan, but when her name was called to bring her in for her appointment, she still felt him jump beside her.

The doctor was unfazed by Saruhiko’s tension- she was evidently used to nervous fathers, and she smiled fondly at the grip he kept on Misaki’s hand as she lay down on the bench and pulled up her shirt. It still surprised her sometimes to see just how big her belly had gotten- she’d never been able to picture herself with a baby bump until it was real, and she often found herself startled by her own reflection as she walked past windows and mirrors, surprised to catch sight of her waxing abdomen. She could only imagine how much bigger it would get; she wasn’t even half way through yet.

“Do you want to know the sex of the baby, or would you rather it be a surprise?” the doctor asked.

“We want to know,” Misaki replied, and Saruhiko squeezed her hand. Misaki initially had wanted it to be a surprise, but she figured Saruhiko would want to be as prepared as possible.

As the doctor applied the cold gel onto Misaki’s abdomen, she tensed, chewing her lip as her nerves mounted all at once- she hadn’t been nervous before, but she also hadn’t dwelt too heavily on the prospect up to this point. But now that the reality of seeing their child for the first time was upon them, she felt her hands shaking with adrenaline. She kept her teeth clamped around her bottom lip as the doctor pressed the ultrasound wand to her stomach, glancing up at Saruhiko to meet his eyes.

The doctor turned her attention to the monitor, making small talk with the couple as she examined the image.

“Have you thought about a name?”

“Tatara. For a boy or a girl.” It was Saruhiko who replied this time.  

“After a friend of ours who passed away,” Misaki added. It was times like this that the pang of his absence could still be felt- Tatara would have loved this; he’d always been excellent with children and it still saddened Misaki a little to remember he wouldn’t get to be a part of their baby’s life.  Sometimes Misaki had gotten the impression from him that he always knew that she and Saruhiko would reconcile, and she still kicked herself that he hadn’t been around to see his prediction come true.

The doctor smiled softly, glancing over at the couple. “What a sweet tribute.” She then returned her attention to the monitor. “Well, I’m happy to inform you that you’re having a healthy baby girl,” she announced, turning the screen to face the expectant parents, pointing out the baby’s silhouette. Misaki was mortified by the amount of crying she was doing recently- with the hormones running high, she found herself tearing up more often than she cared to admit, and it took all her strength to hold back tears as the doctor handed them the printout of the ultrasound, but they finally spilled over onto her cheeks and blurred her vision as she saw Saruhiko slip a small, passport-sized copy of the photograph into the picture panel of his wallet.

* * *

 

Their next priority was moving house- Misaki and Saruhiko still lived in the small apartment they’d first rented out as teenage school dropouts, and while they’d renovated the place over the years so that it was no longer quite so run down, they were finally forced to confront the reality that there was not the space to raise a baby, and the neighbourhood was less than reputable, so the house hunt began swiftly. Reisi’s influence was greatly appreciated in expediting the process, (no matter how much Saruhiko grumbled about having strings pulled for him), and as Misaki’s second trimester drew to a close, she and her husband found themselves being handed the keys to a quaint little suburban house with a garden and a driveway and little rows of flowers planted around the inside of the fence. Even after moving in, Misaki couldn’t quite imagine herself in the place- it was too domestic, too… _normal._ The kind of house a married expectant mother would find herself in, and Misaki still struggled to see herself in that light- “Yata Misaki” and “wife and mother” seemed like completely juxtaposing concepts that she still couldn’t quite comprehend overlapping onto a single person, yet here she was, resting her hands on her growing baby bump as she walked through the new house, trying to project images of what life would be like with her growing family onto the empty rooms. It seemed so… odd, to be settling into such a normal life now, after everything her and Saruhiko had done, everything they’d seen. Her fingertips rose absently to trace the Homra insignia still tattooed on her collarbone. The clans and the Slates and auras seemed like a different lifetime entirely.

But as much as the new home was instilling Misaki with a mild existential crisis, it was also a relief to finally move in; it was a load off her mind, and having to pack her life up into cardboard boxes had been in direct competition with her irresistible urge to _nest._ Normally not the kind of person who bothered about paint and furniture and anything else an interior designer might occupy their mind with, she already had every inch of the nursery planned out, from the exact shade of pale yellow paint to the wall stickers she planned to lay on top of it. It was starting to drive her round the bend just a bit.

Izumo and Rikio had volunteered their help with moving, insisting that Misaki shouldn’t be straining herself carrying boxes around and building furniture (which Misaki had objected to vehemently, but had been outnumbered), so she and Anna sat on the sofa -one of the only items of furniture that didn’t need building- with a cup of tea each whilst Saruhiko complained about the illegible flat-pack instructions.

Imagining her life in the house didn’t get any easier once the rooms were populated with furniture, and Misaki found herself wandering the building absentmindedly once their help had gone home for the evening, trying in vain to picture herself feeding their child in a highchair in this kitchen, unwrapping Christmas presents under a tree in this front room.

“You okay?” Saruhiko asked, finally tiring of her daydreaming.

“It’s just weird, moving out of that place and starting a normal life here.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to completely close the book on all that adventure from when we were younger, ya know? I miss being a vanguard, and when you used to carry a sword and I miss fighting bad guys and skating around the city causing trouble. Can you imagine a mum on a skateboard?”

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. “The book was closed on all that stuff years ago. It’s been, what, seven years since our auras faded?”

“Yeah, but I still miss it sometimes. Miss the rush. And I guess movin’ into a townhouse with a garden with flowers in it feels like it’s really over, after livin’ in that apartment for so many years where we used to make plans to take on the world. No more adventures anymore. I miss fighting strains and Kings and defying death sometimes.”

“I don’t.”

Misaki tilted her head.

“I much prefer knowing you’re gonna come home safe at the end of the day.”

She chewed her lip, her gaze dropping guiltily. With all the distance between herself the swashbuckling times of old, it was difficult to remember the danger, the genuine fear, and the grief that was always just one misstep away- all that was left now of those times was the romanticised nostalgia of adrenaline and glory. She’d forgotten that it wasn’t quite like that for Saruhiko.

“Yeah, I don’t miss that bit, or us not being friends…” she conceded, then added cautiously. “I guess… not all adventures are about defying death and fighting strains and whatever.”

“Hmm?”

“Isn’t becoming parents kind of its own adventure?”

A small smile twisted Saruhiko’s lips. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

* * *

 

As Misaki’s belly grew ever bigger and the date drew ever closer to the magic nine months, she felt dread mounting within herself as the knowledge that, eventually, the child growing inside her abdomen would have to come _out._ In her excitement and terror about the end product of the pregnancy and all the milestones like the first kick and the scans, Misaki hadn’t dwelled too much on the inevitable unpleasantness that was to come before- the act of childbirth itself.

Misaki had never been particularly afraid of pain- she’d toughed out enough battles in her time, had bones broken, been burned, shot at, stabbed, and gotten through it without so much as a whimper, teeth gritted, fists coiled. There was something dignified about being wounded in battle, something heroic.

However, there was absolutely _nothing_ dignified about lying on a hospital bed with one’s feet in a pair of stirrups, nothing badass about delivering an afterbirth or pooping on the delivery table or enacting whatever horror story Misaki had read when she’d delved too deep into online motherhood forums.

Saruhiko argued that the act of forcing a small human out of one’s own body was very badass, but Misaki didn’t buy it. Not when you had doctors poking around where she only would rather her husband be the only one poking around, and when you’d been stuck full of IV lines, and numbed from the waist down.

Saruhiko had spent a considerable amount of time attempting to comfort his wife- he’d attended every medical appointment with her and spent countless hours doing research online, preparing for every eventuality (though he pretended he didn’t- he was still tabbing out of parental forums every time Misaki walked behind him), and as such he was constantly trying to reassure her about the facts. Not that it worked, though. Unfortunately, despite Saruhiko’s best efforts, Misaki didn’t find the reality that he’d researched all that comforting. Words like “episiotomy” and “external cephalic eversion” were far too long and scary sounding, and their definitions were even longer and scarier sounding. Eventually, in one of her hormone-fuelled rages she snapped at him that, until he was confronted with the risk of someone putting stitches in his perineum, he should keep his stupid mouth shut.

Needless to say, they quickly came to the conclusion that pregnancy was much less glamorous than either of them had envisioned it. Even after the morning sickness had subsided, the swollen ankles and bloating and bladder problems and cravings and heightened hormones that had Misaki flickering from insatiably horny to uncontrollably upset to impassioned rages and back again in less than an hour had given them plenty to keep their hands full. The childbirth stories that Seri and Misaki’s mother had offered hadn’t helped much either, as they’d inevitably contained far more information than Misaki had ever wanted to know about genitals that didn’t belong to her. The further along she progressed, the more she panicked. It wasn’t long before Saruhiko banned her from all pregnancy and childbirth-focused websites without his supervision, in case all the stress induced early labour.  

If they thought that had been panic, though, the 36th week only made things a hundred times worse when their doctor sat Misaki down after her check-up to inform her that their baby was breech.

“Breech? That means she’s upside down, right?”

“That’s right- she’s positioned feet-first, which can make birth much more dangerous, both for you and your baby, but don’t panic. There’s a lot we can do to make the birth safer.”

Misaki shared a loaded glance with Saruhiko, gripping his hand tightly. “Alright…”

“The first step is what’s called ECV, or external cephalic eversion.”

Misaki grimaced- that was one of those big scary words.

“Basically, we push the baby through the wall of your abdomen to spin her around, so she’s facing the right way. It can be uncomfortable, but if it works it will allow you to continue with your birth plan as normal.”

“Okay… that doesn’t sound too bad,” Misaki conceded, though she was liking the sound of this less and less by the minute- until now, things had gone completely seamlessly, and aside from the normal unpleasantness of pregnancy, there had been no problems. It was difficult not to panic just a little bit, and Misaki could tell she wasn’t the only one worrying. No matter how cool both of them usually were in a crisis, but when someone mentioned “baby” and “danger” in the same sentence, it inevitably sent Saruhiko into fight or flight mode.

The week preceding their next doctor’s appointment was a tense one, and Misaki couldn’t stop herself staring at her bump in the mirror, running her hands across it, willing her daughter to turn around. But sure enough, by week 37, she was still firmly feet-first, and Misaki was once again meeting Saruhiko in the doctor’s waiting room- Reisi had given him permission to leave work whenever he needed to attend prenatal appointments and the like, and the blue flash of his uniform through the window was a comforting sight.

Twenty minutes later, and Misaki had her teeth gritted, cursing the bastard doctor who had suggested the ECV procedure would merely be “uncomfortable.” But she kept her mouth firmly closed throughout the ordeal, determined not to let the pain get the better of her.

After ten minutes of “uncomfortable” prodding, the doctor finally stepped back and conceded: “I’m afraid I can’t get her to budge. Unless she turns around on her own in the next couple of weeks, I’m recommending a caesarean birth. Considering the position of the baby, and your narrow hips, I think this would be the safest way to proceed.”

Misaki nodded slowly. “Alright, if that’s safest,” she conceded.

They left the doctor’s office a short while later, with the surgery booked and a malaise of anxiety hovering over Saruhiko once more.

“What’s wrong?”

“Surgery is risky.”

“It’s a first world hospital, idiot, I’m not gonna die. I’m kinda relieved to be honest.”

“Why?”

“Because now I don’t have to push a fuckin’ _human being_ out through my… you know…”

Saruhiko couldn’t help but smile- even after all this, she couldn’t bring herself to say the name of her own anatomy. It was so very Misaki of her, even when everything around her seemed to clash with her personality. Baby bump and all, she was still the same girl she was when they got together.

“Just because you don’t like the idea of me going under the knife doesn’t mean I ain’t fuckin’ relieved I don’t have to do it the old fashioned way. You know some people-…”

“Yes, poop on the table.”

“I was gonna say push so hard they get haemorrhoids.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“I didn’t _wanna_ know that. Besides, I bet you’re glad I’m not gonna crack the bones in your hand while I’m screamin’ at you for doing this to me or whatever it is people say when they’re having a baby.”

“That does sound traumatic.”

“Whatever, they can cut into me all they like if means my bits don’t get ripped open.”

“I hope you don’t talk like that around our child.”

* * *

 

When they entered the hospital on the day of the surgery, it had been Saruhiko who had been the most anxious at first, but time passed and the prospect of the epidural needle loomed nearer on the horizon, Misaki finally became more nervous than her husband- as much as she put on a tough guy front, Saruhiko knew she despised injections, and was particularly disgruntled about the prospects of the inevitable IVs and epidurals. She seemed to be distracting herself by making jokes and being snippy with the nurses, whereas Saruhiko’s tactic was to gaze absently at the ceiling tiles and try his best not to think. It seemed that he’d been focussing on worrying about the surgery, so he didn’t have to worry about what would come _afterwards._ Just because he wanted this didn’t mean he was any less scared shitless than he had been the day Misaki had taken that first test.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I should be asking you…”

“I’m not the only one becoming a parent today,” she said firmly.

“...Nervous.” He admitted.

“You’re gonna be a good dad.”

“You’re gonna be a good mum,” he countered, but Misaki could see the tiniest of smiles managing to pierce the tension on his face.

A nurse let herself into the room at that point, with a kindly smile. “Ready to be prepped for surgery?”

“Hell no.”

* * *

 

A lifetime’s worth of shitty medical dramas wasn’t really adequate preparation for the real thing- lying under the surgical lights with a screen pulled up over her abdomen surrounded by medical staff whose faces were obscured by masks was slightly more intimidating than Misaki had imagined.

Saruhiko stood beside her, gripping her hand tightly as they waited for the epidural to take effect.

“Have I ever mentioned that I really hate needles?” Misaki grimaced, and above the surgical mask Saruhiko had been given, she saw his eyes crease at the corners.

“But not of the big knife they’re gonna cut you open with?”

“It’s not _that_ big. Just really sharp. And I won’t feel it, but I fuckin’ felt the one they stuck in my back. And in my arm.”

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. “You’re complaining about a needle when you’re about to give birth,” he pointed out.

“Right. Baby time,” she replied, but her voice was completely devoid of confidence, and the pair shared a final glance of terror as the surgeon entered the room, looking almost alien completely enveloped beneath the scrub cap and gown.

“You ready to be parents?”

This time, it was Saruhiko’s turn to shake his head, and the surgeon chuckled.

“Everyone feels the same way, don’t worry.”

As she positioned herself beside Misaki’s abdomen and asked for a scalpel, time seemed to sort of distort- as the doctors worked, Misaki felt like she was lying there under the blinding lights for hours, but at the same time, it felt like no more than a few heartbeats had passed before the odd tugging sensation beneath the screen intensified and the surgeon finally announced with a grin:

“Here she comes.”

And just like that, it was over, and their baby was born.

The scrub nurse lowered the screen slightly, just in time for the blood-splattered blue gloves to lift the child into view. She seemed so impossibly small, and even though she was still coated in blood and fluid, Misaki was still completely overwhelmed by how absolutely and miraculously beautiful she was; every single cliché Misaki had ever scoffed at.  

“Hi baby…” Misaki said quietly, her voice hoarse and thick with emotion as she stared with wide eyes, drinking in the sight of her new-born daughter. If she’d been able to tear her eyes away, she would have seen the same expression on Saruhiko’s face, the open-eyed shock and awe and wonder.

It seemed a mere matter of seconds as the chord was cut and their little girl was whisked away to the side of the room by another doctor as the surgeon continued with her work. There was a moment of heart-stopping quiet, punctuated only by the beeping of the monitors, and then a cry, weak and croaking, as their child found her lungs to shout out her greeting to the world. Misaki felt a wash of relief, and humiliatingly, the burning prick of tears in the corners of her eyes,

A few minutes later, the doctor carried the baby back over to her waiting parents, cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket, and laid her gently into Saruhiko’s arms. There was a look of utter alarm on his face as he accepted her weight, as though he feared she was going to shatter. She looked so small in his grasp, reaching out with those tiny hands stretching towards the foreign sensation of the air on her skin. Misaki watched him as he held her, staring down at her wrinkled face and her toothless gums as she cried for her first breaths. He didn’t say anything as he lowered her to the operating table so Misaki could nuzzle her cheek against her daughter’s, and the first thing she noticed was how soft her skin was.

“Tatara,” she whispered, reaching to capture the baby’s palm between her thumb and forefinger, rubbing the back of her hand gently. “She has your hair,” Misaki commented, running her hand reverently across the surprisingly long black locks already growing atop her head.

“There’s still time for her to go ginger,” he shot back.

Misaki narrowed her eyes at him.

“How do you feel?” the doctor asked, casting a knowing smile over the screen at the new parents.

“I love her,” Saruhiko said simply, and Misaki smirked at him weakly.

“Don’t go turnin’ into a sap on me, Fushimi,” she teased, and Saruhiko raised an eyebrow, knowing full well her inner monologue was inevitably just as soppy as his.

“…Yes, okay, don’t look at me like that. She’s perfect and beautiful and all that other crap new parents say but you don’t believe until you’re in this situation,” Misaki grumbled, but the nonchalance she tried to project was weakened quite considerably by the way her voice cracked as the tears continued to build in her eyes.  

“You don’t have to be a tsundere at the birth of your firstborn.”

Misaki rolled her eyes, but she was still barely able to tear her gaze away from Tatara’s face, watching her every tiny movement with adoration. “She’s perfect,” Misaki repeated softly, genuinely.

“She is…” Saruhiko said quietly, his voice still quiet with disbelief. He still didn’t seem like he’d quite processed it- there was a sort of glassiness to his eyes as Misaki could see his brain spinning at a thousand miles an hour, trying to accept the fact baby Tatara was really here, that he was really holding their _daughter_.

But Misaki couldn’t blame him; it didn’t seem real. A year ago, she had made a comfortable peace with the prospect that she would likely never have children; it was never something that even crossed her mind, and yet here she was, trying to comprehend the reality that the child in her husband’s arms really was theirs, that she was a mother. Even now, the word seemed foreign. Her and Saruhiko. Parents. Their _daughter._ They were like two completely different worlds, concepts that couldn’t possibly coexist. But Misaki supposed everything in her life was like that; if someone had told her when she was fifteen that in a year or so she’d be part of a gang with supernatural powers, she would have laughed. If someone had told her when she was eighteen that she and Saruhiko would one day work out how to set aside their differences, she would have laughed. If someone told her one day they’d be _married,_ she would have laughed even harder. And if someone told her that one day he’d be holding their child…

To be honest, she sort of wanted to laugh now. Perhaps it was the pain medication, or the absurdity of the whole situation, or the elation of being so absolutely and completely in love with this tiny, beautiful human being, but she found herself grinning. Grinning at the new-born, and grinning at the look in her husband’s eyes as he gazed at the child in his arms, obviously just as head over heels as Misaki was.

As much as Misaki’s life had always been a series of one surprise after another, it was always the unexpected things that were the best.

 


End file.
